Saturday, 4 June 2016

Bitter

I’d forgotten about bitter, forgotten about that
citrusy-slow build of sweetness, the words of toffee and hop spice, the
crosstown traffic, the blistering bitterness, the dryness, the siren call of
English hops, the warp and waft of the raw materials, the full body, its common
touch (at which I have unforgivably sneered), the monstrosity, the leviathan,
the well water hoisted, the sheer sheerness of it all. And as I delved further
and further into my glass of Gadds No 3 I realised how much I’d forgotten about
bitter and how much I had missed it.